House Where Santa Claus Lives, The (skit)
A group participation skit.
HOUSE- Hands over head in inverted “V” SHED- Hands in front of chest in inverted “V” SLEIGH- Hands together as in praying, waving from left to right REINDEER- Hands held at side of head, fingers spread, like antlers PACK- both hands over same shoulder as if carrying load LITTLE GIRLS- All females stand up and giggle LITTLE BOYS- All males stand up and pretend to swallow a worm BOX- Show dimensions with hands LION- Growl DOLL- Hold hands as if praying to side of head, head slightly bent and saying “Ma-ma” SOLDIER- Stand at attention and salute TRAIN- Pump arms in circular motion and say ‘Choo-Choo” SANTA CLAUS- Pat stomach with both hands and say “HO-ho-ho”
Now let’s begin our story;
This is the HOUSE where SANTA CLAUS lives.
This is the SHED behind the HOUSE where SANTA CLAUS lives.
This is the SLEIGH that is kept in the SHED behind the HOUSE where SANTA
CLAUS lives.
These are the REINDEER that pull the SLEIGH that is kept in the SHED behind the HOUSE where SANTA CLAUSE lives.
This is the BOX that is in the PACK all filled with toys for good LITTLE GIRLS and good LITTLE BOYS that is carried by old SANTA CLAUS who guides the REINDEER that pull the SLEIGH that is kept in the SHED that is behind the HOUSE where SANTA CLAUS lives.
This is the LION that frightened the DOLL that is in the BOX that is in the PACK all filled with toys for good LITTLE GIRLS and good LITTLE BOYS. That is carried by old SANTA CLAUS who guides the REINDEER that pulls the SLEIGH that is kept in the SHED behind the HOUSE where SANTA CLAUS lives.
This is the SOLDIER that shot the LION that frightened the DOLL that is in the BOX that is in the PACK all filled with toys for good LITTLE GIRLS and good LITTLE BOYS that is carried by old SANTA CLAUS who guides the REINDEER that pulls the SLEIGH that is kept in the SHED behind the HOUSE where SANTA CLAUS lives.
This is the TRAIN that runs on a track and carried the SOLDIER forward and back, who shot the LION that frightened the DOLL that was in the BOX that was in the PACK all filled with toys for good LITTLE GIRLS and good LITTLE BOYS that was carried by old SANTA CLAUS who guides the REINDEER that pulls the SLEIGH that is kept in the SHED that is behind the HOUSE where old SANTA CLAUS lives.
Dear Santa (my five year old)
Dear Santa:
My five-year-old boy scribbled out his Christmas list. It’s there by
the fireplace. The Coke and chocolates are from him. In case you’re
hungry. You know 5 year olds these days. The Cheese-its are from me.
Santa, if you don’t mind, I thought I’d go ahead and leave my list
too. It’s long, but do what you can.
It’s all I want for Christmas:
*Santa, let my little boy grow up still believing that he has the best
and the funniest dad in the neighborhood.
*Give him good friends, both boys and girls. May they fill his days
with adventure, security and dirty fingernails.
*Leave his mom and me some magic dust that will keep him just the size
he is now. We’d just as soon he stayed 5 years old and three feet four
inches tall.
*If he must grow up, Santa, make sure he still wants a hug from his dad and still enjoys to read “The Frog and Toad” with me.
*If you can help it, Santa, please never let him be sent into war. His
mother and I love our country, but we love our little boy more.
*While you’re at it, give our world leaders copies of “The Killer
Angels” which retells the battle of Gettysburg. It may remind them that too many moms and dads have wept at Christmas for soldiers who died in battles that needn’t have been fought.
*Let our house always be filled with slamming doors and toilet seats
left up, you know, the official sounds of little boys.
*Break it to him gently, Santa, that his dad won’t always be able to
carry him to bed a t night or brush his teeth for him. Teach him courage to face changes.
*Let him understand that no matter how nice you are to everyone, the
world will sometimes break your heart. As you know, Santa, a child’s
feelings are as fragile as moths wings.
*Give him a hunger for books, music and geography. May he be the first
kid in his class to be able to find Madagascar on the map.
*The kid’s a born artist, Santa, so send more crayons. May our kitchen
window and refrigerator doors be ever plastered with his sketches of
rainbows and horses with big ears.
*Let him become a piano player, a soccer star, or whatever. Anything
but a politician.
*Steer him, oh so carefully, to that little girl destined to be his
bride. Let his mother and me still be around when he takes her to thy
Holy House.
*Grant him a heart that will cherish what his parents did right, and be able to forgive us for the mistakes we surely will have made over a
lifetime of raising him.
*Let him not hold it against us that he was born with my chin and his
mother’s ears. Time will teach him that these are God’s ways of
preparing him for life’s adversities.
*While you’re flying around in the heavens, Santa, make sure God is
listening to our prayers for this child: Lead our little boy not into
temptation, and deliver him from evil.
Be careful out there, Santa, and please close the flue on your way up.
If I Were Santa
If I were ol’ Santa, you know what I’d do
I’d dump silly gifts that are given to you.
And deliver some things just inside your front door
Things you have lost, but treasured before.
I’d give you back all your maidenly vigor,
And to go along with it, a neat tiny figure.
Then restore the old color that once graced your hair
Before rinses and bleaches took residence there.
I’d bring back the shape with which you were gifted,
So things now suspended need not be uplifted.
I’d draw in your tummy and smooth down your back
Till you’d be a dream in those tight fitting slacks.
I’d remove all your wrinkles and leave only one chin,
So you wouldn’t spend hours rubbing grease on your skin,
You’d never have flashes or queer dizzy spells,
And you wouldn’t hear noises like ringing of bells.
No sore aching feet and no corns on your toes,
No searching for spectacles when they’re right on your nose,
Not a shot would you take in your arm, hip or fanny,
From a doctor who thinks you’re a nervous old granny.
You’d never have a headache, so no pills would you take,
And no heating pad needed since your muscles won’t ache,
Yes, if I were Santa you’d never look stupid,
You’d be a cute little chick with the romance of a Cupid.
I’d give a lift to your heart when those wolves start to whistle
And the joys of your heart would be light as a thistle.
But alas! I’m not Santa, I’m simply just me,
The matronest of matrons you ever did see,
I wish I could tell you all the symptoms I’ve got
But I’m due at my doctor’s for an estrogen shot.
Even though we’ve grown older this wish is sincere,
Merry Christmas to you all and a Happy New Year!